You'll Never Know, Dear
by After Today
Summary: Love is a losing game. Jin's lost once, and the winner of his heart is long gone. What could he offer to anyone else, even after Angela moves to Waffle Town? How can he ever love again? Rated T.
1. You Are My Sunshine

**Author's Note:**

****Spoiler Alert****

**If you've befriended Jin in Tree of Tranquility, you'll know that he was in a relationship previous to your arrival on the island. He doesn't like to talk about it, but it obviously affected him deeply. There are all kinds of rumors surrounding the end of this relationship: his fiancée died (maybe of an illness, maybe of an accident), or she just up and left one day.**

**While this may not be entirely true to the plot, I'm tweaking the idea of a lost lover a little bit to bring you this story. Enjoy, and reviews are always nice. Let me know how you think I did. 8]**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything or anybody, except maybe Lea. But even she pretty much wrote herself.**

---

Music pumped through the Clinic, pulsing and strident. Irene, the aging, irritable nurse who had a self-imposed aversion to noise or fun, pressed her hands against her ears against her ears and winced disapprovingly, but she uttered not a word. She knew as well as I that even the harshest of rebukes were pointless. It was almost amusing to me, but not so much to Irene. She cast a sideways glance out of her eye and met my gaze dead-on.

"Let her have her fun," I said, looking back down at the clipboard I was writing on. "Life's too short. You should know that, of all people."

Irene groaned, making it a point to get her aggravation across, but settled back into her duties, frowning.

Footsteps on the stairs pounded, descending quickly and spitting out a beaming girl, arms in the air and laughing as she dashed over to me and grabbed me, pulling me to my feet. "It's three o clock," the girl announced, twirling around in time to the music and mouthing along with the lyrics.

"Since when is three p.m. the designated dancing time?" I asked, smiling as she put her delicate hand on my waist and clasped my hand with her other.

"Since now."

Her blonde curls ballooned as she tapped around the office, not caring that the drapes on the front window were pulled open or that Irene was sending a less than pleased glare in her general direction. She paused in her step to look me in the eye and smile, before urging, "Dance with me, Jin."

"I thought I was."

"Like you mean it, you oaf."

As spontaneous as this random outburst of dance fever was, it didn't surprise me in the slightest. Lea had a way of catching me off guard; sweeping me up and off of my feet at a moment's notice and making me fall for her over and over again. She was natural and guided by her emotions and intuition, which drew me to her like a magnet.

I'm not a fan of clichés, so saying "opposites attract" was accurate in describing what we had was uncomfortable, and yet, it was so blaringly spot on that even I had to stop and look at her, really look at her, to make sure I wasn't in a painfully deceiving dream.

"It's the draw of the three letters, I think," Lea had announced one day as we walked down the stretch of beach below the Clinic, clutching my hand like a lifeline. "Lea. Jin. No one else in Waffle Town has three letters in their name."

"Sue does," I pointed out, squinting across the ocean at the fleck on the water off in the distance.

"That doesn't count, and you know it," she scoffed, punching me lightly in the arm and smiling. "Sue is married, and besides, she doesn't live here. She's on Toucan Island."

"Still."

"Jin, do you have to be so logical? Just accept it for what it is." She kissed me then and there, proving yet again the dizzying power she possessed, especially when it came to me.

She was the daughter of a merchant from the mainland, tired of city life and the selfishness that came along with it. She had always wanted to be a doctor. It had been her dream since she was five years old and broke her arm when she fell out of a tree. "The doctor who set my arm was the nicest man I've ever met in my life," she explained. "There's something so tender and genuine about physicians." She sent a pointed glance my way as she spoke, a smile playing along her rosy lips that were as full of life as she was. "And besides, I've always wanted to help people, but people who really needed the aid."

She had moved to Waffle Island as soon as she graduated from medical school, packing her entire life into two suitcases and catching a ride with the first sailor she could find at the harbor. She stumbled upon Pascal, the local ferryman who just happened to be sitting on the dock with a pipe in his mouth – a nasty habit of his that I had been discouraging for as long as I could remember – and a hat tilted on his graying head.

Lea was certainly a beautiful girl. Imagine the stares that she received as soon as she stepped off of the boat, especially from the younger male population. Fresh blood! New life! No one had moved to the island since flamboyant Julius, four years ago, and while that arrival was much discussed as well, it was nowhere near as talked about as Lea's was. She was young, vivacious, pleasant, and pretty, sure to attract the attention of the high-runners in town like Luke or Chase. As fascinating as she appeared, I figured there was no way I could compete with the more well-liked men. And so I lingered within the Clinic walls, guarded as I always was.

No one was more surprised than I when Lea walked through the doors of the Clinic, focusing her sea-green eyes directly on me and slowly smiling. "Hi," she had said, sounding almost timid. I blinked.

"Hello."

She relaxed her shoulders a little bit, and smiled. "I'm Lea."

"Jin." I sounded stiff, monosyllabic. I always did. My goal was to sound as strictly professional as possible, and I usually did an excellent job. The trouble with that, however, was sounding so impersonal that no one bothered to talk to me unless they needed a treatment.

"It's nice to meet you." The smile was still on her face, though she was obviously trying to appear formal. She walked over to a plastic chair in the waiting room and looked at a poster in the wall. "So, you're the doctor around here, huh?" I nodded. "I love doctors." She laughed, a light and unconcerned sound.

From then on, for whatever reason, her visits had become more and more frequent. At first, she had always made up some excuse for stopping by- she was growing herbs on an empty field, and needed some medicine to bolster her energy as she labored. Then, as time went on, she would stop justifying her reasons for visiting at all, and would simply find a place to sit and talk for a while.

"My uncle was a doctor," she mused one day, running the tips of her slender fingers along the curtain of the makeshift hospital room. "So were my cousin, Dane, and my half-sister. They're all on my dad's side of the family. And, of course, I take after my father." She frowned. "My mom was the polar opposite. She was the lighthearted one. The hippie. 'Free-your-soul-and-eat-lots-of-tofu.' Her priorities were skewed. Or maybe I was just unimportant to her. For some reason or another, she left when I was little." She shrugged, looking forlorn, a new expression in her repertoire. She seemed not to notice the silence that fell over the lobby, or that I shuffled uncomfortably in my chair. She was electric and unpredictable in words and in actions. I never knew what tidbits of information she would offer up to me, but the little morsels she fed me on her visits left me curious for more. I wanted more.

She established her ability to shock me again when she asked me about the Firefly Festival towards the end of the summer. Stammering, I explained that it was an annual event, where the fireflies flew away from the valley in a spectacular display of light, a fantastic yet short-lived feat. She nodded, accepting this, and then asked if it was traditional to ask someone to go along with you to the occasion. I said yes, wondering where she was going with this. She smiled, tucked a lock of golden hair behind her ear, and easily invited me to go with her, simple as that.

I had, as much as it shamed me to admit, never been to the Firefly Festival, though I had lived on the island since I was young. While we walked side-by side through the Caramel River District, she almost seemed to have a clearer grip than I did. She led me to the waterfall, sat down promptly on the damp ground by the bank, and tilted her head up at the sky.

"This is nice," she said, closing her eyes. Her eyelashes fluttered on her cheeks, like a butterfly kiss. She reopened them seconds later, as the fireflies emerged and flickered up to the sky, little orbs of light that disappeared almost as fast as they had came. Lea watched, breathless, and awe quickly turned to disappointment. "That's…it?" She sounded upset. It didn't last long. "Oh well. Next year, we'll see it again!"

"Really?" I winced at the sheer level of shock in my voice. I had been under the impression that I was utterly unexciting- at least, that was what I got from the other girls around the valley that didn't give me the time of day. I hadn't said a word since I met up with her at the Inn earlier in the evening. Why in the world would she want to return to this place year after year? She deserved better than me. Didn't she?

She looked over at me, smiled, and said, "Of course." She leaned over, smelling like sweet perfume, and pressed her lips softly against mine.

I hired her to work with me not long after that. Whoever said that love in the workplace was destined for failure was mistaken. Lea was a bright light in the dull workplace that I had been in for the past eight years. She could be serious when the job called for it, and truly loved what she did. Irene slowly learned to accept her. She even showed her some of the medications and vials of herbal remedies that we kept in the storage, explaining in her hoarse voice what each did, and when to prescribe it. Lea nodded solemnly, taking notes on the pad that she toted around with her.

Her formalness didn't last for very long. Before the snow started to fall on the ground, there were traces of Lea all throughout the Clinic- lollipops in a crystal bowl on the front desk, posters of smiling children in the lobby, stickers plastering the counters, even bells on the front door. If you stayed long enough, which generally wasn't very long at all, you could hear her humming from the room upstairs, where she was undoubtedly reading a book on local herbs or playing with my microscope.

"Jin," she called one day. I was downstairs with Ozzie, the owner of the local fishery, who had gotten a hook stuck in his arm.

"Just a second."

"Hurry."

Ozzie looked up at me, grinning despite the metal lure in his upper limb. "That sounds important. You'd better go see what she wants."

I sighed, and finished removing the hook. "Irene!" I called. She shuffled in, patting her hair with a wrinkled hand and regarding me coolly. "Bandage Ozzie's arm, please. I'll be back in a moment." She nodded, setting to work briskly, not bothering to make small talk with the fisherman as she reached for the gauze.

I set my clipboard down on the counter and walked up the stairs, steadying myself on the banister. She was sitting in her favorite chair, her back facing me as I stepped up on the wooden flooring. She was slouching.

"Lea," I said. She didn't turn around. I frowned and walked over to her. She was holding a piece of paper in her hand, staring down at it like it was written in a foreign language. "Lea?"

She looked up at me vacantly, like she couldn't remember who I was. "What's wrong?" I pressed, instincts setting in. Worry burst through the floodgates, typical of me however well I managed to hide it.

"My…dad," she said finally. Her voice sounded distant. "He died yesterday."

My mouth dropped open. "Oh, Lea." I reached out to her, pulling her into my arms and holding tight. She didn't resist, but she didn't return the gesture, either. She just sat there limply in what I recognized as shock.

"I have to go," she said, finally pushing away from me. She stood up and walked over to the window, pressing her palms against the windowsill and staring out.

"Where are you going?" I watched her, but didn't advance towards her. She needed space. Grieving was a personal affair.

She turned to me, with an expression that clearly said I shouldn't have asked the question. "I have to go home, Jin," she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "I have to go back to the city."

I swallowed. "OK. Um, when do you think you're going to have to leave?"

"As soon as I can, I guess," she said softly. Tears brimmed in her eyes, and spilled over onto her cheeks. My chest squeezed painfully. "Pascal…he can take me tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" It seemed so sudden. "Do you want me to go with you?"

"No!" she snapped, crying harder. "I don't want you to go with me!" She crumbled, kneeling on the floor and burying her face in her hands as she sobbed. I crawled over to her, wrapping my arm around her shoulders and brushing her hair back with my palm, wrinkles working themselves into my forehead. She turned her face into my chest, crying harder and harder still until they subsided to sniffles. "Tomorrow."

---

She boarded the ship with two suitcases, one in each hand. Pascal offered to take one, but she refused. She climbed up the ramp and stood on the deck, staring past the harbor out unto the mountain range just behind the town. The sun was rising.

She looked down to where I was standing on the dock. My arms were folded over my chest as I tried to fake a reassuring smile. She put just about as much effort into the one she returned, and I realized how much life had been drained from her in the past day alone. I knew how close she had been to her father, the one from the family of the prestigious doctors but who was a professor himself. The one who had raised her when her free spirited mother left, and the one who I reminded her so much of, which her friends found a little odd but I found endearing. The light behind her eyes had died, and as Pascal stood behind the wheel, sailing out into the ocean, I wondered just how much of the Lea that danced and sang in the Clinic lobby would return to me.

As it were, she didn't return at all.


	2. Skies are Gray

The monotony of watching the clock tick, chipping away at the hours of the day…that was the worst part of the job, according to Irene.

Here in Waffle Town, people rarely got sick enough to constitute a trip to the Clinic. Injury was out of the question, as well, except the more headstrong and foolish inhabitants, such as Luke, who enjoyed nothing more than swinging his axe around haphazardly. With a few exceptions, it was a safe town. A safe place to live, to exist, to coexist. That made my job, in a word, boring. Excruciatingly so, at times.

That's why, when Colleen ran to the Clinic door one stormy morning, I knew that something had changed.

Irene had spotted her first. "What in the world?" She slid her glasses onto her nose and squinted out of the window, just as the redhead burst in through the front door. With a face flushed to match her hair tone, she whirled around and spotted me.

"Jin!" she gasped, motioning for me to follow her. "Come quickly."

"What's going on?" I asked, standing up. This was uncommon, to say the least. She shook her head, and started out the door.

"I'll explain as we go. Hurry! They're waiting on the dock!"

Perplexed, but willing to oblige if for nothing else but curiosity, I followed her outside, where she quickly made a left turn and headed with urgency to the pier, where Pascal's boat was waiting.

"Pascal? Is he injured?" I asked. That would've made the most sense. But where would Colleen come into the equation?

"No," Colleen shook her head. "There's a girl on the boat. She's unconscious. Pascal radioed in, panicked."

I stopped listening after "girl on the boat." My heart started pounding within the confines of my ribcage. Could it be? Had Lea come back, after three years? No…that was impossible. But still, my feet started to walk a little faster, with a little more purpose.

We reached the boat just as Ozzie and Pascal were hustling down the ramp, carrying a makeshift gurney between them. My breath caught in my throat as my eyes scoured the bed, looking for telltale signs of the girl I loved.

The girl on the cot, though, was not the one my heart was expecting. It quieted with a thud as I tried to swallow back bitter disappointment in order to do my job. I approached the men, who looked stricken. "Take her to the Inn," I directed. "It's closest by, and she can recover there." Beside me, Colleen nodded urgently, and led the short walk back to the Sundae Inn.

**

I waited in the lobby as Ozzie and Pascal settled the girl in the room, and looked around the place. I hadn't stepped foot inside the Inn in several years; I simply had no reason to. Anything I needed, I could make, or Anissa, the local girl who brought me herbs some times a week, would bring it to me. The Inn usually served no purpose other than providing a social hub, where youth gathered and gossiped over overpriced food and drink.

Nothing had changed, I noticed, looking at the familiar hangings on the wall, and the couch that had a rip in the seam, which Colleen had tried to veil with a strategically placed throw pillow. It was one place that hadn't changed. For that, I was glad.

"Jin," Colleen called. "They're ready for you." Breaking out of my trance and grabbing my medical bag, I ascended the staircase and quickly found the members of the concerned party congregated in a small hotel room. They took one look at me, then each other, and left the room one by one, daring not to speak for some reason or another. An event like this could be constituted as a tragedy on an island small as this, and tragedy liked to render people speechless, helpless. Especially the ones that had been lucky enough to avoid heartbreak until that point.

Bitterly, I shook my head, trying to refocus on my job. I sat down on a stool next to the bed and opened my satchel. I looked the girl over, taking note of the peacefulness of her face. There was no contortion or fear, just rest. She had a pretty face, I guessed, with an upturned pixie nose and rosy, full lips. Her hair, wet and slightly tangled, was chestnut brown, choppy and shoulder-length. She had a tiny frame, light, but the potential to be athletic, as well. She looked healthy. I couldn't imagine a reason for her passing out, other than possible underlying medical problems, or maybe fear of the storms that rocked the seas.

Nevertheless, it was my job to make sure, and so I started checking her vital signs, listening to her heartbeat and her silent inhales. It only took a few minutes for me to deem her healthy. Everything was normal. There were no cuts, bruises, or other physical signs of harm, either. She was likely merely exhausted.

I sat back, staring not at the girl on the bed, but directly above her. The last time the arrival of a young girl had caused such uproar, it had been Lea stepping off onto the dock.

**

I excused myself and headed back to the Clinic after about half an hour. There was no need for me to be there, and I didn't want to be present when the girl woke up. Her name was Angela, and the mayor, who had stopped by to see the girl who had caused such turmoil so early in the day, had told us that she was the new farmer, the one taking over the rundown farm in the Caramel River District. She was going to be sent to the Soufflé Farm, Anissa's parent's residence and business, to "learn the ropes" of farming, so to speak. Angela was to return to the Clinic before starting out on her own farm, just to receive a clean bill of health.

My grandmother was in the back room when I returned, undoubtedly sneaking peeks at old photo albums, like she always did when there was a spare moment. She was my father's mother, and hated the title of "grandmother." When my parents died when I was young and I was sent to live with remaining family members (only she was able to take me in), she insisted that I called her by her first name. Strange as it seemed to me, as I had been raised to treat adults with the utmost respect, I obliged. I owed her that much.

She missed my parents terribly after their deaths, and never was quite the same person that she once was. She spent most of her time scribbling in a small notebook or flipping through the pages of my parent's wedding albums, looking at the pictures of a happy couple in their prime. My mother, Clara, was a beautiful woman, with jet-black hair and a soft smile. She had a light in her eyes that caught my attention every time I saw a picture of her, and even a stranger on the street could tell how _alive _she was.

My father, on the other hand, was a bit stiffer, stricter. He smiled, but it was constricted, as it was rare. He always looked serious, except for the few pictures in which he was looking at my mother, like she was the only thing he saw. In those select photographs, he was soft, kind, and I could see why my mother loved him, even if I didn't, myself.

They had died in each other's arms, which is the best way they could have gone, I assumed.

"Irene, I'm back," I called, stepping over the threshold. Even I could hear the weariness in my own voice. I heard a book slam shut, and footsteps scuttle out into the lobby. Irene's head peered out from behind the curtain.

"Well?" she asked, impatient. "What happened?"

I opened my mouth to tell her, but something held me back at the last second. I could do no more than shake my head, and walk upstairs. There would be time to tell her later - I had my entire lonely life ahead of me.


	3. My Only Sunshine

As it turns out, Angela arrived at my doorstep – or rather, that of the Clinic – sooner than the ledger on my desk would have predicted. Supported on one side by the weary-faced Anissa, she hobbled to the door, favoring her right leg. Irene spotted the pair just before I did, and hurried to the door. She pulled it open and ushered the girls in while I brushed the dust off of an old wheelchair that was tucked into the corner with some amount of urgency.

"What happened?" Irene's pointed question didn't do much to stifle her curiosity.

"She got a little overzealous with the hoe," Anissa explained, smiling sheepishly as if she had some part in this. She helped the injured girl into one in a row of hard plastic chairs that lined the supporting wall. "Cultivating soil," she added in clarification, as if I needed any.

I rubbed the palms of my hands together and nodded. "Let's look at that leg," I said, glancing at Angela. Even with beads of perspiration glinting on her forehead and a red-stained pant leg, she managed to smile back at me. That struck me as a little odd. Most people, especially the inhabitants of Waffle Island, never missed a chance to gripe about their pain. I wondered sometimes if they were all abnormal in this sense, or if I was the one who was a bit odd for keeping even physical pain to myself. I tucked these thoughts into the back of my mind and turned my attention to the situation at hand. I pushed the chair in the girl's general direction and, with a bit of effort and even less direction, she slid into the seat. She still hadn't uttered a word. She sat there helplessly until Irene snapped out of it and, taking the handles, wheeled her into the exam room directly behind the lobby. I followed, leaving Angela alone.

Irene slipped out as I pulled the curtain to Examination Room #2 closed and snapped it shut. "Can you roll your pant leg up?" I asked. She nodded and complied, grimacing as the bulky denim of her jeans scraped against the extensive wound. It was deep and messy, and at first glance I could tell that it would require stitches, and, if I was lucky and had the supplies on hand, a tetanus shot as well. Rusted tool blades were bad news.

"Craig was getting impatient because I was nervous and hesitant." She finally piped up, and the sound of her voice surprised me. It wasn't irritating and childish, as I had expected it to be; instead, it was soft, lilting, comforting even despite the fact that she was obviously in some degree of pain. She looked down at the cut and blinked. I wondered if she thought she had bitten off more than she could chew – Craig, Anissa's father, was brash and churlish sometimes, and a young girl, a stranger, no less, would likely be intimidated by him. "I've never done this before," she said slowly. "The farming thing, I mean. And the living by myself, too, even though I'm not technically by myself yet." She sighed. "I was…getting used to the feel of the handle, and I got flustered. It slipped."

As she talked, I brushed her injury with my fingertips. She wrenched her eyes closed and exhaled slowly. Gone was her slow smile, and in its place was a look of concentration, maybe pain. Was it sadistic to be more at ease with the latter? Pain, I could treat. I could tend to physical ailments. Friendliness was foreign, like a contagious disease that I was either entirely vulnerable or entirely immune to, and it was customary of me to shy away from it.

"Well, you've nicked yourself pretty well," I murmured, standing up. The counter hosted several different needles. I grabbed a straight needle, which was easiest for me to use, and while I was at it, hunted for the tetanus vaccination. Better safe than sorry. I found it in a cabinet and prepared a syringe. I walked back over, piles of needles balanced carefully in my hands, and set them on the tray that was positioned near my stool. "I'll be right back," I said, ducking out into the lobby.

There was only one computer in the Clinic. Really, there was only one computer in the entire town, and it was sitting on Irene's desk. She liked to shop online for items that weren't available in the town when she thought I wasn't looking, and would switch back over to the medical records as soon as she heard me coming. She did just that as I walked back into the waiting room. I pretended not to see the bar on the bottom of the screen that betrayed her by displaying the name of an online shopping website. "Pull Angela's records on the screen, please," I asked, standing behind her as she typed furiously. Her transcripts had, luckily, been transferred not long before she limped in.

When the information arrived, I quickly skimmed it, and nodded my head at last. "Thank you."

I pushed aside the curtain to see Angela with a fountain pen in her right hand. She was pressing the nib against the knuckles of her left fist, watching the blue ink bleed into the crevices and valleys of her skin. She looked up; spotting me, she was startled into an embarrassed smile. "Sorry," she said, putting the pen down quickly and rubbing at her hand. The color smudged. "I…" Her voice trailed off, as she had no explanation for her actions.

"It's okay," I said, handing her a wipe. She scrubbed at her hand furiously. I waited for her to finish before preparing her arm for the shot, tying a rubber piece above her elbow and swabbing the injection site with another wipe. I handed her a stress ball and told her to squeeze tightly. She obliged, wrenching her eyes tightly as she did so.

"This might hurt a little," I said, watching her face. She was concentrating hard. She bit her lower lip and nodded. The needle slid under her skin as I pressed the syringe and released the vaccination, and she exhaled audibly.

I removed the needle and bandaged her arm. "You'll be fine," I said. "Stay off your leg for a little while, though."

She stared at me. "Great. I've signed on to be a farmer, and my leg is useless already? I haven't even started yet!" She smiled. I was starting to catch onto the fact that she smiled a lot, regardless of pain or company. "If this is a sign of things to come…well…" She chuckled good-naturedly. I smiled politely.

"Doctor." I looked up from her chart to see her staring at me still. "Thank you," she said softly.

"It's my job," I laughed. I had never been thanked – not sincerely, anyways – for performing a routine treatment on a person. She smiled, but she flinched, as well.

"I know," she replied. "But…" she shook her head. "I've always had this…appreciation, I guess? For doctors, that is. I was sick a lot as a girl, and I spent a good majority of my time in hospitals. They were good doctors, the ones that treated me, and I'll never stop being grateful that they saved my life time and again…but it was never very concentrated care. They would flit in, flit back out, and repeat the process after making their rounds." She looked down at her hands. "I've been in here for, what, an hour already? And you've taken care of no one but me. It's a nice change."

I didn't bother to mention that in a town such as Waffle Island, injuries were few, and that I simply had the time that she needed. "Like I said. It's my job." The words were softer this time. She looked at me, scanning my eyes like she could see past the walls I had built up, and that unnerved me. I looked away.

She tried to stand up from the chair and wobbled a bit. I motioned for her to wait and headed over to a small closet in the corner of the room. Rummaging through a set of crutches, I called, "How tall are you? About five foot four?"

"Give or take," she replied. I found the set I was looking for, and brought it over to her. She stood up, leaning against them as I adjusted the height. "There you go," I said, clicking the knobs into the correct position for her tallness. I grabbed the clipboard with her information on it and scanned it again.

"This visit will be free of charge," I murmured, signing a line on her chart and initialing.

"Oh, I couldn't let you do that," she protested.

"Sure you can. You haven't even started at your farm yet. You can't possibly have a steady income yet. And besides, it doesn't seem fair to charge you for an injury that wasn't entirely your fault."

She sighed, consenting. "All right. But just this once." She paused, in thought. "On one condition."

_Uh-oh._

"And what might that be?"

"You let me take you out to dinner at the Sundae Inn. Once I get my bearings, that is."

I blinked. She was watching me, gauging reactions. "Too forward?" she asked.

"No," I managed to say. I was surprised, maybe enough so to subconsciously blurt out without all of _my_ bearings altogether there, "That would be fine."

She grinned brightly. "Okay, then, Dr. Jin." She wobbled again on her crutches but steadied herself. "I'll see you then." She managed to maneuver past me, trying to wave goodbye but stopping when she nearly slipped. Irene laughed and bade her and Anissa farewell, watching them head cautiously down the dirt street, and then hurried back into the curtained room.

"Well, well, well," she clucked. "What have we, here?" She peered at me over the rim of her glasses with a knowing look on her wrinkled face.

"I have work to do," I muttered, pushing past her. I was suddenly embarrassed, suddenly regretting agreeing. I loved Lea. I always had, and I knew I always would. Even approving of going on an obligation date seemed like a betrayal of her trust. Even though I, myself, had been betrayed.

_What am I getting myself into, here?_


	4. You'll Regret It All Someday

**Author's Note: I am so sorry, readers. I have hardly had a chance to write my name on a scrap piece of paper, let alone an entire chapter. Summer is here, though, and that means weekly updates, if not more. I pinky promise. So, without further ado, I give you Chapter Four!**

I don't get asked out on many dates.

All right. Maybe being asked to dinner isn't exactly a _date_. But when you consider the fact that every Saturday night for the past four years has consisted of me eating Spaghetti Pesto by myself at a little table in the clinic while Irene goes out to talk to the Tailor and buy bolts of fabric for various arts and crafts projects that she never finishes, any social outing could be regarded as a date.

So, of course, I started thinking of ways to get out of my arrangement with Angela.

It was an obligation invitation, I'm sure. Or maybe one out of pity. Either way, I'm perfectly content with my Saturday arrangement. It's what I'm accustomed to, and I'm not one to actively look for ways out of my comfort zone. This…this was out of my comfort zone.

"Jin," Irene called, looking at the computer screen as that day approached. "Have you talked to Angela about dinner tomorrow night?"

I winced, straightening my collar and walking downstairs to face this. I had hoped Irene had forgotten. But that woman has a stellar memory when it suits her. "Ah, no," I replied. _Nonchalance, Jin. _"She said something about 'when she gets her bearings.' Which, of course, is a hard thing to do after only three days on a farm, wouldn't you think?"

Truthfully, I was counting on the assumption that Angela would get so bogged down in work on her ranch that, by the time she 'had her bearings,' she would've forgotten all about me.

It wasn't her I was trying to avoid, exactly. It was facing the fact that I am socially awkward, and I didn't exactly want to spend hours of my time sitting around in blank silence. I'm not much for conversation, and even the most persistent of talkers gets easily discouraged around someone like me as of late.

I had been like that most of my life. Chitchat wasn't encouraged at my home, where my father and my mother preferred to use their time talking about politics and medicine and the economy. A child doesn't have the capacity to involve himself much in those types of conversation, and so I listened and learned, not daring to interject. Even after my parents' death, at my grandmother's house, there was never much room for idle chatter. I spent most of my childhood reading and observing.

Lea managed to change that much in the short time she was in my life. A year was all it took for her to drag me around town, forcing me to talk to people and involve myself in the events that I hardly noticed before she arrived. Soon, I _wanted _to take part in everything that she did, because she was so alive and so happy; I wanted to be the same. I would stop in at the bar on Friday nights, would participate in festivals, would pay visits to neighbors. I became something of a socialite, actually.

Of course, once Lea vanished, I pulled back into my shell, maybe even more so than I ever had before. And the bittersweet part was that everyone obliged, leaving me alone.

I'm a creature of habit. I like waking up at the same time every day, and going to bed accordingly. I don't have much excitement when it comes to meals – I like what I like, and I eat what I like. Acquaintances are few, friends are even more so.

Speed bumps in my life make me feel unsettled. And, as bad as it sounds, I considered a simple act of kindness a speed bump.

But Irene wasn't dumb. Oh, no – she was many things, but "dumb" wasn't even a minority in her repertoire. She turned to me, looking me up and down with cold eyes. And then she raised a finger. "Call that girl," she said in her most menacing voice, "and take her to dinner."

I sighed, knowing when I was beaten. I would never live this down. "But-" I started, like a child trying desperately to escape punishment. All it took was a raised eyebrow to get me to hush.

"Fine," I gave in with a sigh. I walked over to the phone and reached for it, only to be smacked in the hand. "Ouch!"

"Call on her," Irene enunciated – a sure sign that she meant business – "in _person._"

Fantastic.

At least it was a nice day. I would die, crumple over in embarrassment, leave behind a pitiful life – but at least it would happen on a nice day.

The walk wasn't a long one. I could cut up through Waffle Town and take the path between the hills into the Caramel River District. But instead, I took the long way, taking the left path in the fork in the road, instead of the right, which would lead directly to Angela's house. The left pathway led into the Maple Lake district, where I lived. In fact, most of the houses that were on the island were located in this district. There was a single path that looped around the namesake lake, and winded around into the Ganache Mine District, where the industrial careers like blacksmithing and carpentry set up shop. Convenience was key here; Ramsey's blacksmith was positioned right by the mouth of the mineral-rich Ganache Mine, and Dale's carpentry was a short walk away from the small forest. Anissa and her family also lived here, on the other side of the area, though, closer to the Brownie Ranch District.

Just beyond the carpentry, the path curled into the Caramel River District, forming a complete circle. A root of the Goddess's tree had once blocked it, but the carpenter's son, Luke, had taken it upon himself to chop the root into tiny pieces. I passed through here, wondering what would've happened if I had arrived to see the root intact and blocking my way to Angela. I would have to circle back around, and by then, it would be much to late to socialize.

_Stop it_, I scolded myself. _The new girl in town extends a kindness to me, and I act like it's an invitation to the gallows._ I knew I was being unreasonable, but red flags were popping up in my mind at every turn.

Of course, eventually, I reached Angela's…er…_house._ "Shack" is a more appropriate word, though. The mayor certainly didn't give her a very good run of things – her residence was worn, and hardly large enough to host a personality like hers. I sighed, and, trying not to think of the health code violations that oozed all over the creaking porch, climbed up the steps and knocked reluctantly, once, twice, and a third time.

"Hold on! I'll be right there!" The voice didn't come from inside the house. I peered from behind the column that supported the roof to see Angela, clad to suit her new profession in gloves and boots, exiting the barn with a tiny animal in her hands.

"Hello," she said, grinning. She wasn't at all surprised to see me standing on her doorstep. She walked up and sat on the front step, cuddling the white ball of fluff in her arms. "Isn't it cute? Hanna, the owner of the Brownie Ranch, sold her to me for a bargain." She held up the tiny lamb and smiled.

"Adorable," I said, wincing inwardly at the acidity in my own voice. If Angela noticed, she didn't let on.

"Go on, go play," she said, releasing the lamb and watching it scurry off into her pasture, where her other livestock – which she had accumulated in record speed – were grazing. She stood up, wiping her hands on the seat of her shorts, and then tucked a loose piece of hair behind her ears. "What can I do for you, Doctor?"

"Ah." Well, I didn't have anything to lose. _Except dignity, my isolated sense of security… _"I was hoping you were available. I'd like to…take you up on your dinner offer." The words scraped the inside of my throat, clawing desperately to avoid release. My voice cracked.

Angela raised her eyebrows slightly, looking amused. For a single moment, a tense, bated moment, she hesitated. And then…

"I'd love to, Jin. Give me just a minute, and I'll go grab my things."

"Oh. Okay." I should've felt some degree of relief, knowing that I hadn't been rejected flat, but instead dread welled up a little more. "I'll sit out here, then."

In reality, I didn't need to sit down at all. She was ready to go in about thirty seconds. She had removed her gloves, changed her shoes from boots to sandals, and put on a different shirt. She also smelled like berries, obviously a perfume. She peeked out the front door and opened it slowly. "Ready to go?" she asked me, in all seriousness, as if she had called on me, instead of the other way around.

"Of course." I stood up and nodded. And then I turned around and began to walk. I didn't notice she was fumbling with her keys to lock her door until I heard footsteps hurriedly trying to catch up with me.

"You walk pretty fast," she said when she finally reached my side, and then matched the pace of my stride.

"I apologize."

"No, it's nothing to be sorry for. Don't be silly."

I could already tell the fun in store for me tonight.

Kathy, the waitress at the only restaurant in town, cracked her gum and leaned on our table. "What can I get for ya?" she asked, positioning her pen on her notepad and winking at me.

"The tomato risotto, please," I said, not even bothering to look at the poorly laminated menu she had handed to me. Angela, on the other hand, was studying it intently, biting her lip.

"Ah…what's in your Omelet Rice?" she asked, looking up at Kathy. The blonde waitress stared.

"You're kidding."

"No…" It was the first time I had heard Angela sound unsure of herself.

"Omelet Rice has rice. And eggs. Little pat 'a butter, too." Kathy looked amused rather than annoyed.

"Oh. That sounds good. I'll have that." Angela handed over her menu, pretending to be blasé, but her cheeks colored pink. Kathy nodded, and turned on her three-inch heels to walk back into the kitchen. An uncomfortable silence filled the air, just as I had suspected. Angela took a sip of her water, and I did the same.

"So…" she said, working for conversation. "What's there to do for fun around here?"

I swallowed. "Fun?" Ha, I wouldn't know. "Well. Some people swim. A lot of the younger women like to ride horses; Renee, the daughter of the ranching family, raises prize-winning colts. There's a handful of festivals each season with different draws." I felt like I was reading from cue cards.

Angela nodded, considering this. "Uh huh." She looked at me and tilted her head. "And you?"

"Pardon?"

"What do you do for fun?"

I blinked. I didn't do anything for fun. Work was fun- my idea of it, anyways. "I collect herbs," I blurted. Angela giggled.

"Herbs? Fascinating." She put a hand to her cheek and grinned. "I'm serious. Who are your friends? What do you do on your days off from the clinic?" This was the question I had been dreading. My pathetic answer was inevitably going to be required, though, so I sighed resignedly.

"I…don't have all too many friends," I admitted. Once upon a time, I did. Three years ago, to be exact.

Angela frowned, looking a little shell-shocked. "Oh. Why is that?" She stirred the ice in her cup with her straw, doing her best to mimic my plastered nonchalance.

I shrugged. To that, I had no answer. The silence clouded the air once again, sticking to the walls of my throat and nostrils. I was choking on it. And apparently, so was the girl – she ducked her head, obviously embarrassed.

At that exact moment, Kathy chose to swing through the kitchen doors, breezing through the restaurant with two plates balanced on the palms of her hands. "Tomato risotto," she announced, setting my plate down, "And an Omelet Rice. Complete with eggs and rice." She winked at Angela, and, just as quickly as she had appeared, disappeared once more.

As I took a bite of my food, thankful to have an excuse not to talk, I noticed Angela playing with her order. "What's the matter?" I asked.

She set her fork down and looked me directly in the eye. "I'll be your friend, Jin," she said, in all seriousness.

I swallowed, hard. _What have I gotten myself into?_


	5. I Was Mistaken

The next week or so went by…fairly uneventfully, actually. I saw a few patients – Maya, the innkeeper's daughter, who sliced open her thumb with a steak knife, and Owen, who had caught a cold in the mines. I reorganized my office. I filed papers.

One day, I was shuffling through my file cabinet, trying to find a certain document. Instead, a manila folder fell out, spilling papers on the floor. The folder itself was unmarked, which was unusual. I frowned; all of my folders had a patient name or a case study number on the tab. What was this? I squatted down on the ground, scooping up papers, and turned one over. And then I realized.

These…were the letters.

In a suddenly desperation, I flipped through the file of papers to find the fading one, the one with the ripped corner and the lipstick smudge. It didn't take long.

_Dearest, dearest Jin:_

_I owe you an explanation for so much. _

_It's been an entire season since I left Waffle Island. I can only imagine what's been going on since I left. But you don't need to hear about that – you live there, after all. I assume you're much more interested by…my side of things. I assume you want to know why I haven't come back to you yet._

_There's no easy way to say this, Jin. Believe me, I've tried to think of an easy way. Anything would be better than this. But it's taken me an entire season to come up with this much, so bear with me._

_I…there's someone else, Jin._

_I feel like a horrible person for just saying that. But it's true. _

_I came back to the city for my father's funeral, and my ex-boyfriend, the son of my father's business partner, he was there the entire time. We talked, and we went out for coffee, and…_

_Well, the ellipse says more than I ever really could. Dot, dot, dot. Fill-in-the-blank with the unspeakable. But I must say it. We're engaged. I know, it happened so fast. _

_So, to answer the question I assume you are asking. I'm not coming back to Waffle Island, Jin. I'm going to stay here. I'm going to stay here and get married, and I am going to break your heart. And it kills me. But my mind is made up. This is where I belong, Jin. These are the people I belong with. And you're where you belong, as well. It's my heart's deepest desire that you find someone who belongs with you, too. But it's not me. _

_And since I cannot be there to give you a goodbye kiss, the one I should've given you on the dock with suitcase in hand, I'll end this letter – and my communication, my life with you – with this one._

_I'm sorry, Jin. More than you'll ever imagine._

_Lea._

And there, true to her word, was a lipstick kiss, in the burgundy color that she painted on every single morning.

I rocked back on my heels, feeling the same emotions as I had upon opening that letter for the first time. It was a tidal wave, drowning every feeling inside of me and then pulling them back out again as it receded. I felt numb as I gathered the rest of the papers that had fallen to the floor, knowing already what they said but picking one at random to scan, anyways. Every other paper had a scratched-out response to Lea's letter, stained with blotches of ink and tiny rips.

_Lea,_

_Well...there really isn't anything to say._

_I'm sorry, Lea._

_Jin._

But now, I realized, I wasn't sorry. If I could ever un-apologize, I would in a heartbeat. I was not to blame. I was not to blame for falling in love, for wanting to keep my love at my side forever. I was not to blame for Lea's unfaithfulness. I was not to blame.

So why did I feel so guilt-ridden? Why did I feel as if there was something, anything I could've done differently? And "if-only"s clouded my mind as well – if only I had kissed her at the dock, gone with her to the city, held her hand more.

Three years was a long time. It had taken me three weeks to fall for her. It would take me a lifetime to forget her.

I still wondered about her every single day. I wondered if she had actually gotten married to that yuppie doctor's son and fulfilled her dreams of starting a family. I wondered if she had ever considered starting a family with _me. _I know I had.

And now other young men and women, even around Waffle Island, they were all starting to settle down. Toby and Renee, the fisherman's son and the rancher's daughter, they had married two years ago and were already expecting their second child, a boy. Chase, the inn's chef, and Maya were engaged. I constantly saw the exotic dancer and the carpenter flirting, and the mayor's son was almost always hanging around the tailor's shop to catch a glimpse of a certain cotton-candy haired girl.

Everyone had someone except me.

Just then, I heard a crash downstairs. "Watch it!" Irene cried, and another voice, a familiar, female voice, cried out. Something shattered against the floor.

"Oops."

Scratch that.  
I had _Angela.  
Lucky me._

I heard Irene sigh, and say something in her characteristically low voice – the one she used to reassure people – and then footsteps on the stairs. I quickly gathered the papers and stuffed them back into the folder, and then into the filing cabinet.

No one had ever seen Lea's letter, not even my grandmother. And if I had it my way, no one ever would.

"Hi, Jin!" Angela chirped, poking her head around the door that had been slightly ajar. I wondered how she managed to climb up a flight of stairs so quickly as I pasted on a look of nonchalance. "What's up?"

"Oh, nothing," I said, casually shutting the file cabinet's door and swiveling on my chair to face her. "Out of curiosity, by the way, what did you break downstairs?"

Angela winced and straightened her back, rubbing her arm with the palm of her opposite hand. "Uh, you heard that, huh?" I nodded and pushed my glasses up on my nose with a finger. Honestly, this conversation was exhausting me, and it had only just begun. "Well. I think it was a vase. I'm not entirely sure." She bit her lip and looked at me.

"Was it, by chance, blue?"

"Uh…yeah, I think. Maybe?"

I sighed in exasperation. "That vase is a family heirloom," I explained wearily. Shock flashed on the girl's face.

"I'm so sorry!" she exploded, covering her mouth with her hand after the words were out. She looked genuinely horrified. "I – I'll pay for it. I'm so sorry. Irene told me not to worry about it, that she'd clean it up. I didn't know it was valuable." To my surprise, her eyes actually began to well up. Instantly, some of my defenses faded away – if it was one thing I absolutely could not stand, it was a crying girl. I saw my fair share of them – most recently, Maya, when she had sliced open her thumb. But I also had to sit through administering shots to Toby and Renee's one-year-old daughter, and also Luna, who was barely old enough to be classified as an adult. Still, I felt incredibly guilty, and I couldn't help myself.

"Don't cry," I blurted out. "Please. Don't worry about it; it's not that big of a deal. Honestly. It's just a vase." It was just a vase that was one of the only gifts my mother had ever given to me – a _vase_, of all things – but that point was moot. And instantly, the purpose of my words was fulfilled. Angela's eyes dried, and she smiled shakily at me.

"Okay. If you say so," she said, coming further into the room and grabbing a chair, spinning on it slightly. I waited for a moment, but she didn't say anything else.

I sighed. "Angela?"

"Yeah?"

"Did you need something?"

"Oh yeah!" She perked up, and grinned at me. "Let's go do something."

"What?" I hadn't heard her right, surely.

"Let's. Go. Do. Something." She shook her head. "You spend too much time in here, surrounded by your medical books. I bet they're all written in Ye Olde English or Morse Code or something. You don't even understand Basic English anymore. Let's go do something!"

"…I'm busy."

She gave me a look of disbelief. "Doing what? There are no patients."

"Maybe there are."

"Okay. You definitely need to get out more, because now you're starting to imagine invisible patients. Or maybe you're just operating on your invisible best friend or something. I don't know. Whatever the case, it's not good for your mental health, and we can't have a mentally unhealthy doctor around here. I'm doing it for the sake of the town!" She stood up and put her hands on her hips indignantly. "Now, let's go!"

I heaved a huge sigh in defeat. "Fine!" I snapped, standing up. "But if anyone crawls to the door, bleeding to death, and I'm not here to help, I'm blaming you."

"Fine. Let's go!'

And so, against every single instinct in my body, I walked out, following her, and did my best to ignore Irene's quiet, self-important chuckle. _This is going to be yet another long day. I just know it._ And my instincts were never wrong.

Hardly ever wrong, that is.


	6. If You'll Only Say The Same

"Follow me." The second we walked out of the Clinic, Angela took a sharp right and walked down the main street of town, looking over her bony shoulder every so often to make sure I hadn't bolted. I had a feeling that, even if I _were_ to run, I could never get away. Angela had taken me on as her personal pity project, the lonely soul, and the recluse that she felt compelled to socialize. No, even if I took the opportunity to duck behind a building or just turn around and run, she would find me. She was my personal shadow.

So instead I opted to remain utterly silent, tuning out the brunette's incessant chattering and instead closing my eyes. I knew this town so well. I could walk these streets a blind man, and never once trip. The sun on my skin was disconcerting rather than comforting. Summer was simply too hot a season. I sincerely hoped that Angela was leading me somewhere that had air conditioning, a luxury introduced to the town a few years ago by an overeager salesman who tried to modernize Waffle Town. He succeeded in installing A.C. units and an occasional telephone, but other than that, the people of Waffle Island preferred to keep to their rural ways. I was proud of that.

I opened my eyes to see Angela stepping off the staircase behind the fishery, onto the sandy beach that bordered the entire town. "Come on," she said, beckoning to me. "There's a shortcut there." Of course, she needn't tell me that; there wasn't a solitary corner on the island that I was unaware of. I knew it would make no difference to tell her that, though, so I humored her and trailed after her. She slipped past the shelf of the main rock that separated Caramel River District from the town, and then back up to the pathway. It looked like she was walking back up to her house, and anxiety flashed briefly through my mind. _Dear Goddess, not that mass of health-code violations, please. I'd like to survive this._

Instead of taking the necessary trail straight up to the rackety old shack that she lived in, however, she took a left, towards the namesake of the district, the river. "Are we…going swimming?" I ventured, rolling my eyes. In this heat, it would be appropriate, but my attire was not.

"No, silly." She grinned, obviously not noticing my indifference, or else she was as good as tuning out my attitude as I was at tuning out her voice. "Just trust me."

I almost choked. It had been a long time since anyone said that to me.

"We're almost there, anyways," she said, picking her way through a small section of bushes that blocked off a path that led behind the River District. She turned around to waggle her eyebrows at me, like she was leading an expedition to some never-before-seen area. At this point, I knew exactly where she was leading me, but again, I was humoring her.

She finally reached the extremities of the district, where the path ended and a huge slab of rock blocked the Ganache Mine District from the River. "Right through here." I obliged, ducking under a limb from a nearby tree and sidling on a narrow stretch of land.

Right behind where the path appeared to end, another one emerged if you crossed the barely-two-feet-wide ledge. This secluded area was shaped like a teardrop, the round portion headed by a waterfall, cutting into the mountainside. The grassy area ended right before a bridge began, leading up into a winding pathway. There was a spring up there, I knew, and it could be used for regaining stamina. City folk paid thousands of dollars to go to a spa for that kind of energy restoration, and we, the villagers of Waffle Island, had such a luxury completely free. It was a little ironic; city dwellers think themselves privileged and at an advantage over country bumpkins, but in reality, it is the other way around.

"Isn't it beautiful?" Angela breathed, looking directly at the waterfall. Her eyes glassed over.

"Yes, it is," I agreed. I could appreciate a beautiful thing, much to Angela's apparent surprise. Maybe she had picked up on my disgruntled demeanor, after all. In that case, I felt an ounce of guilt – I was acting childish, and she was simply tolerating me. In a see-through attempt to suddenly grow a spine and act mature, I straightened up and cleared my throat.

"I see you've found the waterfall," I said, clearing my throat. She turned to me, raising an eyebrow.

"I take it I'm not the first to stick a flag here."

"Hardly," I scoffed. And then I remembered – _mature_. The way a doctor should act. "I mean, no," I backpedaled, "Everyone in town loves this spot. Renee and Toby come here every Monday to fish. It's also a popular festival area."

"Oh? It hardly looks large enough to host an entire village." Angela motioned at the small patch of green that we were standing on.

"Well, you're right. Town events are held more at the beach, or in the square," I explained, sitting down on the ground. It was damp, but I didn't really mind. I had a closet full of coats to exchange for the one I was wearing at the moment. "The waterfall is more for-" I cleared my throat again, coughing a bit "-_private_ events." Like the Firefly festival. Like where I went with Lea.

So many memories. I rested a hand fondly on the soft, supple ground. It seemed like yesterday that she and I had sprawled out here, watching the fireflies become stars in the sky, and kissing softly, like a secret.

Angela squirmed, uncomfortable. "Oh." She paused, and then took a seat next to me. "So like couple stuff." I nodded, and she ducked her head. "You have a pained look on your face," she informed me, smiling almost timidly. "I take it you have memories here."

"Memories as deep as the roots of the trees," I said. My glasses were sliding off my nose; I removed them and wiped the lenses on my sleeve, but didn't put them back where they belonged. "It was long ago. It is useless to talk about now."

"Memories are never useless," Angela objected. She flopped back on the grass, staring at the blue. The sun was falling in the sky, right over the peak of the mountain. It would be dark soon. "They're the only things that we take to the grave. That, and secrets." She plucked out a handful of grass and started splitting the individual blades down the middle, absently. "If something's important enough to come into the afterlife, then it's certainly important enough to recognize in, well, this one."

I looked over at her. "You've had some time to think about this, I see." She laughed and punched me playfully in the arm, something I was entirely unused to.

"Maybe I'm just a deep person, Jin," she said, smiling easily.

"Oh?"

"There's a lot you don't know about me," she said. "Just because you're a doctor doesn't make you an expert on every part of life. Including mine."

I paused. Did I really come off like that? I knew I was unapproachable, but to be completely standoffish and arrogant was another thing entirely. "I- I'm sorry."

"Nothing to apologize for. You didn't do anything wrong." She puckered her lips and concentrated on a star in the sky, barely peeking out. "It's getting dark," she said half-heartedly. "You should probably be heading back, huh?"

"Yeah. Yeah. I should."

"All right, then. I think I'll stick around here for a while," she said, closing her eyes. The sun was falling fast as I got to my feet, and I found myself unwilling to leave. Odd, considering my original displeasure at evening coming in the first place. But something had changed, obviously. I couldn't tell if it was a change for better or for worse; in either case, I wasn't a big advocate of change. I liked things the way they were, the way they had always been. Big life events weren't my cup of tea, so to speak. But lately, everything had been changing. After three or four exchanges, this girl, this city girl with the bright eyes and the easy smile, she was uprooting my life.

"Bye, Angela," I said, finally gathering my bearings about me. She waved. I sidled back into the Caramel River District and made my way into the Maple Lake District, right at the edge of this one, where my house was, rather than returning to the Clinic. I had some things on my mind, and could hardly concentrate on work at that very second.

One thing was for certain; I would not allow my guard to be lowered so easily.

But hadn't it started to break already? I would have to be more careful in who I let affect my life. Choose the wrong person, and they have the power to shatter everything that matters to you. And that power is a dangerous thing. It had been forwarded to another in the past, and she had used it in the cruelest of ways. Angela was no Lea, but what did I honestly know about this girl, other than she ignored my subtle criticisms and looked past my blaring flaws for the sake of spending time with me?

People had habits of showcasing their good qualities and masking their bad. It was simply human nature. It was also human nature to trample in order to get what one wants. I should know.

By the time I had pondered a majority of this, I had reached my small house. The door was unlocked, as it always was. There was no need for a padlock; no one would bother breaking in, and if they did, there was nothing to take. It was just me, the few material things I required to function, and the walls that knew entirely too much. Thankful to the Goddess that those walls could not tell tales, I decided, early though it was, to crawl into bed and try to sleep, futile an effort though it may be.


	7. As I Lay Sleeping

**Author's Note: Here's this week's installation. Just so you all know, I'm going to be on vacation for the next two weeks, so I may or may not be able to upload. I will, however, be writing, and if you don't see any updates at all in the next two weeks, you'll see three the week I get back. I'll make up for lost time, and I won't forget about this. Promise.**

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* * *

**

"Honey, now, come on," Irene scolded, waking me up with her scratchy voice. I blinked blearily at the ceiling, disoriented.

"Huh?"

"Now, Jin, it's simply inexcusable for the town doctor to come down with a cold," she clucked. She reached for a bowl that was sitting on my bedside table and spooned a bit of soup out. "Eat," she commanded.

"It's…" I glanced over at the alarm clock resting next to the bowl. "It's 7:30 a.m., Irene," I groaned, sitting up and pushing the spoon away. "I'm not sick, I don't want your chicken noodle soup, and I definitely don't need you to feed me." I swung my legs around to the side of the bed and slid my feet into the woolen slippers that were in their normal place.

"Jin. It's seven thirty," Irene repeated, blinking at me.

"Yes. It is. And the Clinic opens in half an hour. We have to get going."

"But…but you're sick! You never wake up so late, unless you're sick!" she insisted, staring after me as I walked out of the room.

"No, I'm really not ill," I corrected her. "I think I would know if I was." I stood in front of my closet for a moment, as if seriously pondering what to wear. There were few choices, after all – lab coats and solid-colored shirts. I pulled on one of each, along with a pair of khaki pants. Very normal attire for me. I looked at the rumpled clothing that I had worn the previous day on the floor, which, for some reason, had not found their way to the hamper, and suddenly memories flooded back to me. Again.

I shook my head, trying to rid myself of the feeling. Of the feelings that had welled up last night. I just barely tolerated Angela, and that was because I was doing a good job of making myself see her as a patient, and nothing more. But venturing out to such a spot, especially one that I had history in…

I scrubbed hard at my skin as I washed up in the bathroom. It hardly served as a distraction. In the mirror, I could see Irene surveying my home, which she had a key to in the rare event that I locked the door. She didn't live with me, but she was my grandmother. I couldn't lock her out. But I saw the look in her eye, the way her gaze slid across the room and caught sight of the rumpled clothes in the corner, the way her eyebrows shot to the top of her wrinkled head, so identical to the grooves in a freshly-cultivated field.

_Please, Goddess, I'm begging you – don't let ideas start forming in her head. _But I could already hear the wheels turning.

I straightened up again, and headed back into the main room. "Come on, Grandmother," I said, holding the door open for her. "We don't want to be late." She didn't say a word, didn't look at me except for once, and that one time – I knew she knew.

* * *

"OK, Renee," I said, pushing back the curtain of an examination room later that afternoon. "Irene's checked you out, hmm?"

"Yes," the sweet brunette nodded. She looked comfortable on the cot, not nearly as nervous as when she had come for checkups when pregnant with her first child, Julia. "We've picked out a name, Toby and I," she said as I took a seat on the stool next to her. "His name, the baby's, it's going to be Jack. After Toby's favorite uncle. He was a farmer, like my family and me. He died last year, though. So we're going to, you know, keep the name alive."

"That's good," I murmured, distracted by her charts. Irene was the midwife, overseeing ultrasounds and prenatal health. I just came along to prescribe vitamins and take blood pressure, things like that. I kept up with the files, or they would not be kept at all; Irene hated paperwork.

"Jack and Julia," Renee said, smiling at her husband and squeezing his hand. Toby looked as calm as Renee did, but then, he always looked unruffled. I had seen him fully alert once; and that was on the day Julia was born. At all other times, his eyes were half-closed, his silver hair rumpled and in a general state of disarray, his clothes not much better. Today, he was bouncing their toddler on his lap. Julia was a beautiful baby girl, with a bright smile, bouncing curls, and startling eyes that she must've inherited from her father, though no one could ever be sure.

"Hi, Julia," I said. She batted those eyes at me and grinned a toothless smile. "Well, Renee," I said, turning back to the mother, who was smiling down at her daughter. "If you have another beautiful child, you're going to have to watch out. They'll be heartbreakers."

Family was incredibly important in Waffle Island. It was everything. Businesses were run by families of several generations. Families crowded into the family-centric events hosted by the family that ran the town. Families went on picnics together, went swimming together, and played together in their spare time. If you had anyone, it was your family.

You can imagine how hard it must be for someone who doesn't have that.

For so long, I imagined, dreamed of starting a family with Lea. I had never been too fond of children before moving to Waffle Island; really, I wasn't too fond of them before I met Lea. But once we starting dating, visions of rosy-cheeked, cherub-like children with Lea's eyes and hair, pattering around the clinic started filling my mind. I could see the shining of Lea's eyes as she read stories aloud, just like she did to the neighbor's kids when she baby-sat.

That all disappeared with her. I wasn't getting any younger, and besides, I didn't know if I would be a good father, anyways. If anything, I would most likely end up like my father, not knowing how to be affectionate and instead coming off as cold.

I watched a while later as the very pregnant Renee and the much-too-calm Toby walk hand-in-hand away from the Clinic, trailing behind their little girl who was skipping along the path and waving back at those who waved at her. They were happy, and I was glad for them.

Something caught my eye as the small family turned the corner. Angela was walking down the path, heading straight for the beach with a look of determination in her eye. I was confused until I saw the parade of children behind her: Chloe, the blacksmith's granddaughter, Taylor, Anissa's younger brother, and Paolo, the fisherman's youngest son and Toby's brother.

I exited the Clinic and sat on the front porch to watch what happened. And I couldn't have been more surprised.

When Chloe was a toddler, she had wandered into the ocean at the Beach Festival when no one was watching. She almost drowned. Since then, she had been terrified of water, and she didn't even like to take baths very much. As such, she was usually coated in a fine layer of soot that she gathered while playing in the mouth of the mine by her house.

Angela approached the water's edge and finally turned to the children. Chloe took a step, eyes full of trepidation. Angela smiled encouragingly and took her hand. Together, as Chloe's friends watched from the sand, the girls took a few cautious steps into the water. Eventually, Chloe's unease started to ebb, and, ankle-deep in the water, she splashed Angela playfully. Angela shrieked light-heartedly and splashed right back.

This continued until the sun started to set, about an hour later. I was amazed; how could someone, in a month's time, manage to convince a little girl to do something she was terrified of, and make her comfortable? Before Angela, Chloe wouldn't even go to the beach. How had Angela coaxed her to get into the water?

I couldn't think of an explanation. Was there even one to be had? It was apparent that Angela's charm worked on other people, too.

It reminded me of Lea. But then again, everything did.

As Chloe stepped out of the water, grinning brightly, Paolo and Taylor cheered. The three of them ran off, probably to tell the adults that Chloe had faced her fears, and Angela watched proudly from the water. Afterwards, she quietly picked up a towel, wrapped it around her waist, and walked on the shoreline until she disappeared into the Caramel River District.

Apparently, I hadn't quite figured her out as well as I thought I had.


	8. You Told Me Once

**Author's Note:**  
**I'm back from my vacation! The next three chapters will be up by the end of the week, hopefully, as I make up for lost time. After that, new chapters will be released once a week.**

**

* * *

**

"What's the Firework festival, Jin?"

I whirled around in surprise, dropping a glass beaker to face Angela. It was early, around six thirty, and while her daily presence in the Clinic was an occurrence I had come to accept over the past few weeks, I hadn't been expecting her to pop by for another several hours, or at least not until the sun was in the sky.

The beaker fell to the floor, shattering. The liquid inside spilled, and Angela leaped back in a panic. "Don't move," I instructed, quickly moving to control the damage. I returned with an arsenal of equipment – paper towels, a broom, and a dustpan.

"Let me help," she pleaded, reaching for a paper towel. "It's my fault."

"No, no," I said, shaking my head and sighing. "I don't want you to cut your fingers on the glass, and besides, medicine is all over the floor. You may have…some sort of reaction." I didn't actually know if one could have a reaction to a substance that they simply touched it, but the important thing was that Angela didn't know that, either.

"Oh." She stood back at my prompting and watched, arms folded across her chest. It didn't take long to clean the mess up, but as I dropped the glass pieces and used towels in the trash receptacle, I made a mental note to sterilize the area later.

I sighed again and looked up at Angela, who had moved to one of the cots. "You're going to-!" I extended a hand, only to coil it back up at my side when she sat down on the paper that covered the seat. "Crinkle the paper," I finished my sentence weakly. She tilted her head at me.

"It's just paper, Jin," she said, sounding amused and wearing an expression that confirmed the emotion.

I didn't reply.

"You didn't answer my question, by the way," she said, kicking her feet against the base of the chair.

"I was a little distracted by the wasted medicine seeping into the floor of my Clinic. Honestly, I don't think you've been in here once without breaking something."

"_Sorry,_" she said. Exasperation tinged in her voice. "Can we drop that topic now? I'll…mop it up later or something. But _what _is the _Firework Festival?"_

While I was wondering about the right she had to sound irritated with _me, _I humored her and decided to answer. "Fireworks are pretty colored lights that flash in the sky-"

"Don't patronize me just because you're good at it," she scoffed. "I know what fireworks are."

"Then what, pray tell, do you want me to tell you?" My head started to throb.

"Well, what goes on there? Is it just, like, something where people go and sit down and strain their necks to look at lights that explode for three seconds?"

I shrugged. "I don't know; I haven't ever been before." When she gawked at me, I added, "I've heard there are activities to do. Some couples go there to enjoy the scene together. But no, I've never personally been. You can see the shore from the front window of the waiting room, though, and so you can watch the fireworks from here."

"You've _never been to the Fireworks festival?_" The girl glued her fists to her hips and gave me such a look of indignation that I almost felt the need to return.

"No. I haven't. Too many bugs swarm in the summer nights for my liking," I retorted. _Summer._ Good Goddess, the seasons were flying by. Had Angela really been pestering me for that long? It seemed like a week, at the most.

"Well, that does it," she declared, standing to her feet and striding over to me. She grabbed my arm and started to pull me out of the door.

"What are you _doing?_" I demanded, digging my heels. She was strong, but not nearly strong enough to drag a full-grown man against his will.

"We're going to the Fireworks festival!" she exclaimed.

I chuckled. "Ah, no, we're not. _We_ are not going. I don't care if _you _go. But I am not."

"Come on, Jin," she said. "Live a little! It wouldn't kill you to socialize!"

"I have no interest in that," I told her. Why was I wasting my time on this conversation? I shook myself free of her grasp fairly easily and walked back to the rear of the Clinic. There were clipboards waiting for me; Candace, a local girl, was supposed to be coming in for a weekly checkup later, and I needed to get her prescription ready. Of course, Angela trailed behind me.

"It'll be fun. Please, Jin?" she wheedled.

"I have work to do, Angela. And so do you."

"I already did all my work," she said, scooting herself onto the top of a counter. I narrowed my eyes at her and made another mental note; this time, to make sure to clean _that _area, too. "And, Jin, I don't have anyone else to go with. I'll look stupid if I go by myself! Please?"

And so, the point was reached. It was about time. "Angela, the festival is tomorrow. I'm sure Luke or Gill or somebody would be glad to take you."

She seemed to mull this over, and relief washed over me like a wave. Finally, I could get back to work. Even so early in the morning, it was the only thing I ever really cared to do. Irene would be in about an hour later to help, and from there, we prepared, prescribed, bandaged, soothed, alleviated, and repeated. Until then, the earliest hours of the morning were mine to meditate.

I wasn't too keen on sharing them with my personal shadow.

Just as I was starting to think Angela would actually consider asking one of the other boys in town and leave me alone, she backpedaled. "Luke can't sit still long enough to watch the fireworks with me," she said. "And Gill is already going with Luna. He said they're just going 'as friends' but come on, he likes her, obviously. And I can't break in on that. Not that I like Gill as anything more than a friend. Or that me inviting a guy to go with me means that I like that guy more than a friend. I just don't want to be alone!"

I slapped a palm against my forehead. I could _feel _myself relenting, and getting increasingly frustrated simultaneously. "Fine!" I finally blurted out. "Fine, fine, fine. I'll go with you, but you have to leave me alone until then! Please! I need to finish my work!"

Oblivious to my aggravation, Angela grinned brightly. "Yay! I knew you wanted to go! Okay, I'll meet you tomorrow, at the beach. 7:00, okay?"

"Fine." I made it a point to sound cold, so she wouldn't mill around much longer. I wasn't too happy about being coerced into this event that I considered worthless.

To my relief, she left not long after securing an answer of "yes" from me, which made her intentions of coming so early a lot clearer. Obviously, she thought it was going to take a lot longer than it did in reality to talk me into it. I peered out of the window as she walked away, waving to the early-rising villagers with one of the brightest smiles I've seen on her face.

I put aside the clipboard I had been gripping tightly for the past few minutes and shook my hand and my head. My knuckles were white, and I was surprised the board didn't have crescent-moon carvings from my fingernails. It was more than uncomfortable, how much Angela reminded me of Lea. It made me want to resist every proposition Angela made, but it also rendered me completely defenseless. I was at a loss.

My entire life centered on the fact that I could explain every detail of it. Every minute feature had an attached elucidation, a justification and a purpose. My parents were dead; they had died as another's recklessness. My days consisted of work; it was what I was good at and what I enjoyed. Lea had come into my life and left; she was my perfect match, but she had met someone else and started a new life.

It was all as simple as that. If there was a reason already there, one did not need to fuss over it, losing sleep and trying to find reasons why.

I could not explain the way I felt about Angela. Perhaps it was simply too early to do so; I had only, after all, known her a season. But relationships developed faster than that, didn't they? Not that what we had was a relationship, necessarily, or that we even had anything at all. But I couldn't explain why she kept coming back to see me, or why I didn't turn her away.

When I looked back down at my hand, I realized that, without the clipboard, my fingernails had dug into the skin of my palms. Matching indentations, half-moons in a neat row, smiled up at me. With yet another sigh, I rubbed my hands against my coat and tried to re-focus on the task at hand – my job – and leave the worrying about Angela, and all things connected to her (which, lately, seemed like everything) until tomorrow.


	9. The Other Night, Dear

The 6th day of Summer came and went like a whisper; if you weren't paying attention, you would've missed it. Irene, sitting at her desk and using a mortar and pestle to crush herbs, looked up at me as the afternoon light began to fade away, and evening threatened at the windowsill.

"The Ocean festival is tomorrow," she said, striking up what she considered casual conversation.

"Ah, yes," I said, distracted. I was having trouble contacting my pharmacist in the city; communications to the mainland had been all but cut off since the waters surrounding the island became so choppy. I was only half-listening to Irene. The Ocean festival directly preceded the fireworks; it was a daylong event and an open invitation for sunburn and bug bites, and so I was stocking up on things like aloe and itch cream.

"Should be fun," she said. I could hear the gentle_ thud _as she set the clay bowl on the counter, and footsteps approaching my little desk. "Jin." She reached out and gently touched my shoulder.

"Yes, Grandmother?" She sighed softly, as she always did when I slipped and called her anything other than simply "Irene," but she continued nevertheless.

"You should go."

Sensing a conversation aching to escape her lips, I consented, and, setting my paperwork down on my desk, swiveled around in my chair to face her. "Why is that?" I touched the fingertips of my two hands together and pressed them against my lips.

"I just think it would be good for you. You're so pale, dear. You need some sun." She hesitated, and then quickly, nonchalantly, added, "Maybe that Angela girl would accompany you. She's so fond of you, and she's a fun girl."

Subtlety did not suit Irene.

"Grandmother," I sighed, and then caught myself. "I appreciate your concern, but spending my day in the sun…well, it's just not what I consider fun. You understand."

"Jin, it's not a question." Something in Irene's voice changed, and I looked up to see steadfastness in her wizened features. "You spend entirely too much time in this Clinic. You're too young to waste away in here. You tell your patients all the time that fresh air and exercise is mandatory, but you never spend more time than it takes to walk to and from the Clinic to your house outside. You need to go. I honestly don't give a badger's tush whether or not you want to; I'm doing this for your own good, Jin. I will lock you out of this building tomorrow if I have to." She folded her arms over her chest and harrumphed, trying to look authoritative to match the part.

I blinked. Even though she had not been harsh with me, I wasn't used to this kind of attitude from my grandmother, the single soul who seemed to understand me and what I was comfortable with. I opened my mouth to protest, and then reconsidered. She was, after all, right. To some extent, at least.

"All right," I conceded, and threw my hands up in defeat. "I was planning to go in the evening, but if it's that important to you, I'll…go…during the day, as well." I frowned. While I wasn't exactly a social outcast, I was nowhere near chummy with my neighbors, and to spend an entire day dealing with sideways glances would be torturous.

Irene didn't notice this, however. She had honed in on what I had just said. "You were planning to go in the evening? To the fireworks?" I nodded, and the corner of her mouth turned up. "…With a girl?"

Her anxious demeanor made me chuckle. "Yes, with a girl. And, because I know this is your next question, yes, I'm going with Angela."

The corners of her mouth turned up for a small second. And just like that, the smile disappeared. "That's good," she murmured nonchalantly. "Try not to stay out too late."

I shook my head as Irene turned around and walked back to her desk, like nothing had happened. The last twenty-five years had been much like this: she would wheedle something out of me, and when she won me over, she would save her gloating until later.

* * *

I didn't sleep much that night, after locking the door of the Clinic behind me, treading home, and crawling into bed. Instead, I stared up at the ceiling. Since I was a child, I had always been a bit of an insomniac, even more so when under even the smallest bit of stress.

At around one in the morning, I gave up and sat up in bed. With a sigh, I stuck my feet over the side and into my room slippers. Don't make fun; they're very manly. And they keep my feet warm. There's an traditional method that suggests that when the feet get cold, it affects the upper respiratory system and impairs the body resistance and this may in turn leads to common cold, upper respiratory infection, abdominal pain and painful period, even cardiovascular diseases.

I'm a doctor. Superstitions aren't becoming. But you can never be too safe.

I shuffled to the kitchen and put on a kettle full of water to boil, then turned to sit down. I knew it was futile to even try to sleep. Thoughts kept slamming themselves against my skull, begging to be heard and raising intensity each second.

If I was cold before Lea, I was a stone now. The scene in the Clinic that morning kept replaying in my head; I could hear edges of steel in my own voice. I kept pushing Angela away. I didn't know why she kept coming back. Was I subconsciously encouraging her in some way? Sending signals that I didn't mean to send?

Or maybe she knew something I didn't. Maybe she thought she could save me.

Scoffing at my own idea, I shook my head. She didn't even know about Lea. How could Angela possibly conceive some monster that I needed rescue from? And besides… I _didn't need_ to be rescued.

I stood up and walked over to the oven. The teapot was whistling, and I took it off of the heat and prepared the tea using leaves I had grown myself. I was in the process of returning to my seat when, by chance, I looked outside through a window.

There was a dark silhouette slipping through the district, head bent low and feet churning fast. And all a sudden, it backpedaled, trying to avoid something in the dark. But it was to no avail; the shadow toppled over backwards and landed, spread-eagled on the ground.

I set my teacup down on the ground and hurried outside. The scene had occurred right outside of my house, which was situated on the top of a small hill. I carefully but quickly maneuvered down a set of stairs and strode with urgency over to the figure.

Even in the dark, when I approached, I instantly recognized the shadow as Angela. The moon shed scant amounts of light down on her, and her face was twisted in pain. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah…I'm…fine…" Her voice trailed up, and she tried to push herself off of the ground. Along with hurting, her face was painted with a blush. She looked away from me, and tried to stand up. "Ah!' she cried out, falling back down on her knees.

"Your ankle," I said, reaching out to touch it. "It looks swollen. What did you trip on?"

She sniffled, and I looked up in surprise. Her eyes were shining, and a single tear slid down her cheek. "A tree root," she said. She wiped her face quickly, trying to veil her tears. "I was trying to get home. I didn't see it until…" Her voice caught, and she broke off quickly.

I calculated quickly in my head. It was too far and too late to make it to the Clinic, and…my house was literally four yards away. "Okay," I said, holding back a sigh. "Come on."

She looked up at me. "Are you going to take me home?"

"No," I said. I wasn't strong enough to carry her quite that far. "You're coming inside with me."

"What?" But I didn't hear her; I had already picked her up (admittedly, I struggled a bit. Despite her thin body structure, she was quite heavy. Must be muscle mass), and was slowly but surely ascending the staircase that bit into the hillside and led to my door.

Once inside, I let her down on my couch. "Stay there," I instructed, and then realized it was needless. Defeated, Angela narrowed her eyes at me. "…Right. I'll be right back."

I came back with a bandage and an ice pack in my hands. She had taken the liberty to prop her foot up on a nearby table, something I would ordinarily have objected to, but let slide. She winced as she looked at her puffed-up ankle, and slowly let her breath out.

"May I?" I asked, reaching a hand for her leg. She nodded tentatively, and held her breath as I gingerly felt around her foot. "It's not broken," I concluded after a moment. "Just a nasty sprain." I quickly wrapped it in the bandage, and pressed the ice pack to it.

"Ow," she whimpered, looking away. "I mean…oh." Her shoulders were heaving slightly, and she was obviously holding back tears. She was stubborn, though – if I knew anything about her, I knew about her stubbornness – and she refused to break down. She was too strong for that.

Hesitantly, I stood up, and made my way over to the other side of the couch and sat next to her. "Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

"Some dignity," she muttered. "This is the second time I've hurt myself in the past month, and the second time you've had to save the day." She waved her hands around her head and wiggled her fingers. "Sorry. I get bitter after midnight." She attempted a smile.

"What were you doing out so late, after all?" I asked, avoiding other subjects. She sighed.

"I…well, you'll think it's silly." She turned her head away.

"No, I won't."

She raised an eyebrow, something I could tell even when she wasn't facing me. "Fine. I was doing a part-time job at the bar so I could make enough money to buy you this." She reached into her backpack, which she carried with her at all times, and pulled out a picture frame. She angled her body to face me again and struggled to set the frame upright.

"It's a present," she said, motioning at the frame. "A thank-you gift. You know. For letting me bother you, and for agreeing to go with me to the fireworks thing. I was going to give it to you after, but…I guess now's as good a time as any."

She handed it over to me, and I looked down at it, speechless. It was a framed picture of Harmonica Town at sunset, with the mountains in the background and the crashing waves in the spotlight. It was taken from a distance, out in the ocean, and it captured something like a first impression.

It was beautiful.

I glanced at the girl sitting next to me out of the corner of my eye. She was fiddling with her choppy brown hair and biting her lip. "Do you like it?" she asked earnestly, forgetting about her pain and instead focusing on trying to make _me _happy. "I took a trip on the ferry to Toucan Island the other day, and I bought a camera and everything. I took this picture on the return trip and, well, I thought you might like to hang it in the office. It's so boring in there. No offense."

"I like it," I said softly, turning it over in my hands. There was a note on the back of the frame, carefully printed in what I recognized as Angela's handwriting.

_Jin,_

_Thanks for being my friend!_

_Love, Angela._

If I hadn't been feeling guilty before, at that moment, I felt something between entirely touched and entirely lousy. I had acted like a…well, a jerk, and all she had wanted was friendship.

"Thank you, Angela," I said, and I faced her. I managed to muster a smile, and she blinked in surprise before smiling back, magnifying mine by ten on her own face.

Something snapped within me, and I stood up quickly, battling emotions and trying to keep a stoic face. "Would you like some tea?" I murmured, moving into the kitchen before she could respond. She had just gone through an entire ordeal, an expensive one, to take and frame a present for me, and I was still trying to push her away. It was subconscious; the part of me still in love with Lea was protesting, saying there was no room in my heart for someone new. But the part of me that was logical, mature, and lonely argued that there was.

This would be a battle. I knew I needed patience, and a good dose of humility, as well. I was good at applying those in my career, but not in my personal endeavors. I was realizing all of this now, and it was quite the wake-up call, an unexpected one.

"Jin?" I turned around, hands busy at work preparing tea. "I don't need any tea," she smiled. "It's late. I'm really tired, and I need to sleep if I'm going to have any fun tomorrow. That is, if I'm capable of having fun on a sprained ankle." She frowned, but continued. "I should be heading home."

"Angela, you can't make it home on one foot," I argued, before I really knew what I was doing. "Don't be ridiculous. You're staying here tonight."

Her eyes flashed. "I couldn't do that." She looked around, and, with a sigh, amended, "Well…if you don't mind… This couch _is _pretty comfy…"

I chuckled. "You're not sleeping on the couch with an injured ankle," I said, and offered her an arm. "Come on."

"What? Where are we going?"

"You can stay in my bed." Oh, dear.

She laughed out loud. "I'm not sleeping in your bed! Where would you sleep?"

"I'll figure that out," I said, fighting the smile that twitched on my lips. "Don't be obstinate. Come on, before I change my mind." I grabbed her hand and, when she relented, helped pull her up, and led her to my bedroom. She settled in my bed, looking entirely uncomfortable, but that changed in a moment's notice as sleep started to claim her.

"Thank you, Jin," she murmured, blinking slowly. She closed her eyes, and before too long, she was deeply asleep. Her shoulder rose and fell beneath my quilt, and despite the ordeal she had gone through, she looked at peace.

I stood by for a while, and then headed back into the living area. Going through the motions of preparing a place to sleep for that night, I settled down on the couch with a pillow and blanket. But even at that moment I knew it was of no use; if sleep had escaped me earlier that night, it was nothing more than a glimmer in the night sky at that point.

* * *

**A/N: I know Jin was kind of cold in the last chapter, which is why I tried to make this one a little gooier. Angela's just a sweetie pie. =] Jin can't possibly resist her for much longer…can he?**

**Also, the thing about the slippers and keeping your feet warm? Totally found that on Google. Not my idea at all. It's Traditional Chinese Medicine theories, apparently.**


End file.
